


quicken to the new life

by ImpishTubist



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28132869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishTubist/pseuds/ImpishTubist
Summary: Remus Lupin, newly-appointed guardian of baby Harry Potter, gets caught in a rainstorm and takes refuge in a very strange bookshop.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 39
Kudos: 302
Collections: Clever Crossovers & Fantastic Fusions, The Angel The Demon And The Wizard





	quicken to the new life

**Author's Note:**

> This follows the Book!Omens timeline (the Antichrist was born in 1979 and the Apocalypse happens in 1990) but also borrows heavily from the TV show. This is a standalone one-shot (for now). Unbeta'd, not Brit-picked.
> 
> I don’t support JKR, her transphobic comments, or really anything she has to say about the HP series. It is my immense pleasure to take her characters and rub my queer little hands all over them.
> 
> Title comes from Queen’s “The Prophet’s Song”.

**_November 1981_ **

Aziraphale had always liked the rain. To him, there was nothing better than a proper grey, rainy day. He had always found the rain soothing, cleansing. Days like this, when lightning spider-webbed across the sky and briefly illuminated the dark, tended to remind him of that first rain back in Eden, which was one of his most cherished memories. 

The rain also meant that foot traffic through his shop was almost non-existent. The weather kept the tourists indoors, away from Soho, and thus away from his shop. There was also the added bonus of Crowley, though Aziraphale would _never_ voice such a thought out loud. It felt too dangerous to even have it in his mind, though sadly he couldn’t control his thoughts. Cold, rainy days usually meant that Aziraphale would pop into the back room at some point to find a large, black snake coiled on the rug in front of the fireplace, and this afternoon was no exception. Living in London and having a cold-blooded creature for a friend were an _excellent_ combination, Aziraphale had learned almost two hundred years ago. Scarcely a day went by from September to May when he didn’t see Crowley, something that delighted him more than he would ever admit out loud.

On this particular day, Crowley had been napping in front of the fire for almost five hours now, and Aziraphale was planning to join him in the back room as soon as he had unpacked this latest shipment of books. He had purchased them from one of the collectors he had become acquainted with over the years, and was eager to hold them in his hands. 

The shop door blew open, letting in a gust of cold wind and rain. Aziraphale startled at the interruption. A man came into the shop, clutching something against his chest, and shoved the door closed with his shoulder. He was soaked through, and stood there for a moment, dripping water all over Aziraphale’s floor. 

“S-sorry,” he said around chattering teeth. “I know you’re closed, but I just needed--”

“The door was locked,” Aziraphale said, glaring at the door, because it should _absolutely_ know better.

“Was it?” the man said. “I mean--I don’t think it was, actually, you must have forgotten--” 

And then the bundle the man was clutching to his chest let out an ear-splitting wail, and Aziraphale’s irritation spiked. A _baby_. Oh, this was even worse than he thought. Not only was this man dripping water next to Aziraphale’s books, but now there was a _baby_ in the shop, and babies posed a far greater danger to Aziraphale’s delicate tomes. 

“Oh, Harry, no,” the man muttered plaintively, holding the baby to his chest and rubbing his back. “Please don’t, I know you’re cold and you’re hungry, but I just need a moment to _think_ \--” 

“What seems to be the matter?” Aziraphale asked, coming over to the man at last. He decided that the best course of action would be to help this man, because the sooner he did, the sooner the two of them would depart the bookshop. 

“Oh, it’s just--well, my car broke down, and I needed to find a phone so I could call for a tow and a mechanic, and then it started raining, and nothing’s open, and I just--” The man was still bouncing the screaming bundle, seemingly to no effect. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“I could call you a cab, if you like,” Aziraphale said. Heaven, he’d call for a whole fleet of them if it would get rid of this customer. He’d been quite looking forward to a glass of wine and some banter with Crowley, the both of them tucked away together in the back room.

The man winced. “That’s not--not really a fee I could afford. I-- _we_ live in Wales.” 

“ _What_ in Satan’s name is that racket, it’s going to wake the whole bloody--” Crowley stalked out of the back room, but he stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw the unfortunate trespasser. “Oh, for Hel--Heav-- _Someone’s_ sake, give him here.” 

And before either Aziraphale or the man could react, Crowley had plucked the baby from the man’s arms and strode away. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale protested at the same time that the man exclaimed, “Hey, wait--” 

“The fire’s back here, unless you both want to freeze your arses off?” 

Aziraphale sighed. So much for his evening plans. “Yes, my--er--friend is quite correct. There’s a fire in the back. It should help warm you up and dry you off, and then we can sort out this...situation.” 

He supposed he could have instantly dried both the man and the baby, but that would raise uncomfortable questions and besides, he’d already been reprimanded earlier this month for the use of too many frivolous miracles. 

“What’s your name, my boy?” Aziraphale asked as he led the man to the back room.

“Remus.” 

“I’m Ezra,” Aziraphale said. _Remus_. That was an unusual name for a human. “And Anthony is the one who kidnapped your child. My apologies, he has no manners whatsoever.” 

“He’s not my--” Remus paused, and seemed to sway for a moment on the spot. “Oh. I suppose he is, actually. My child.” 

“Generally that’s not something one gets confused about.” Crowley was standing in front of the fire, swaying slightly to soothe the baby. He apparently had no such qualms about using his powers, and Harry was dressed in a fresh outfit and wrapped in a green blanket he had most certainly _not_ been using when Remus entered the shop. The human seemed too rattled to notice, and Aziraphale hoped it would stay that way. 

“He’s my godson,” Remus said quietly. Aziraphale pressed his shoulder, pushing him gently onto the couch, and then went to busy himself with making some tea. “His parents died a week ago.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Aziraphale said. He finished fixing the cup of tea, added a generous helping of whiskey to it, and handed it to Remus. “You’re trying to get back to Wales, you said? That's quite the journey.” 

“I don't have anything for a baby. I came to London for some supplies.” 

"Surely you could have found those supplies somewhere closer to your home?” There was _definitely_ something strange about this human.

"There are things I can only get in London," Remus said evasively. He sipped the tea, apparently found it to his satisfaction, and took a larger swallow. “The car's an old, unreliable thing. But I can’t afford anything better.” 

Aziraphale twitched his fingers, partially drying Remus’s clothing. Not enough for the man to notice, but enough to significantly speed up the overall drying process. He fetched a blanket, and spread it over Remus’s shoulders.

“Now,” he said, “where is this car of yours?” 

“Just up the street.” Remus was watching Crowley intently; there was something wistful about his expression. But then he realized Aziraphale was looking at him, and cleared his throat. “Sorry. Just...reminded me of someone. Do you have a phone? And, er, a phone book? I don’t really know the area but there’s bound to be a mechanic nearby…” 

“Never mind about that,” Aziraphale said. He was likely to be reprimanded for it next month, but using a miracle to fix a stranded human’s car _might_ be justifiable, if he argued his case well enough with Gabriel. “I’ll go take care of it.” 

“You?” Remus looked at him in surprise.

“ _I’ll_ go, angel,” Crowley cut in. “Don’t think you’d know what a car engine looked like even if you were staring at it.”

“And _you_ would?” Aziraphale demanded, biting back his retort about how Crowley hadn’t even put petrol in the Bentley in over fifty years.

Crowley ignored him, instead crossing the room to hand Aziraphale the baby. He patted the angel's shoulder and whispered, “Good practice for the Antichrist,” as he slipped past Aziraphale and out of the back room.

Aziraphale huffed. It wasn’t as though _he_ was going to have much to do with the Antichrist--that was the nanny’s job, and they’d already decided that Crowley was the better suited of the pair of them for that role. Nonetheless, he adjusted his grip on Harry, holding him as he’d seen Crowley do. 

“Oh, dear.” Aziraphale carefully pushed the hair back from the baby’s forehead, revealing a fresh and jagged scar. “You poor thing.”

“It’s from the accident,” Remus volunteered. “The...car accident. That killed his parents.” 

He was lying. Aziraphale could sense it. He frowned; it was a peculiar thing to lie about. “That must have been awful.”

“It was,” Remus said, and that at least was the truth. Aziraphale could tell. 

There was something strange about this human. Something strange about the child, too. Aziraphale couldn’t properly articulate _what_ that strangeness was, however. Every time he probed the odd feeling he was getting from the two of them, it slipped away from him. The harder he tried to look, the more elusive it seemed to be. It was utterly fascinating, and perhaps a little unsettling as well. There wasn’t much out there that could hide from an angel.

The baby was a dead weight in his arms, and Aziraphale came to a conclusion. 

“You’ll stay the night,” he said, and Remus looked up at him in surprise. “It’s late, and much too dangerous to drive all that way in this weather even if Crowley does fix your car. Come, there’s a bed upstairs.” 

***

Aziraphale settled their guest and his baby in the flat upstairs, in the bed that Aziraphale hardly ever used. He had needed another quick miracle to vanish the dust and freshen the linens, but he honestly doubted their guest would have noticed otherwise. He seemed to be in a bit of a daze, poor thing. Having fatherhood thrust upon him so suddenly must have been quite the shock. 

By the time he came back downstairs, Crowley had returned. 

“What do you make of them, dear boy?” 

“Fuckin’ _weird_ , that’s what they are,” Crowley muttered from his spot on the floor, sprawled out in front of the fire in human form. He’d already dried his clothes with a snap of his fingers, but he was obviously still chilled. Aziraphale would have covered him with a blanket, but Crowley would have snarled and hissed and objected to being fussed over. “Especially the baby.” 

“The _baby_?” 

“Yeah, stinks of evil, that one.” Crowley wrinkled his nose. 

“He couldn’t be--” Aziraphale broke off, horrified at the thought, but Crowley just waved a hand dismissively.

“Nah, he’s not a demon. S’not coming _from_ him. He just smells like it. Almost like it’s rubbed off on him somehow.” 

“I see.” Aziraphale absorbed this for a moment. What smelled of evil, but wasn’t evil at all? Besides Crowley, of course. Someone who had come into contact with Hell recently, he supposed, but he didn’t know how a baby would have such a close encounter. This required some more investigation. “Did you get the car all sorted?” 

“Yeah. It barely took a miracle to fix it. He’s not wrong, though--that thing is _ancient_. And it’s been kept in terrible shape. He hasn’t looked after it at all.” 

“He did say money is hard to come by.” Aziraphale paused, an idea forming in his mind. “You know, I reckon we should keep them both around for a while.” 

Crowley sniffed. “What, like a couple of pets? You can’t go around kidnapping humans, angel.” 

“They’re a bit odd, is all, and I’d feel more comfortable keeping an eye on them,” Aziraphale said. “I don’t particularly care for odd things. It wouldn’t do for either of our sides to find out about our little...arrangement.” 

Crowley grunted. “You can’t possibly think those two are _spies_.” 

“They’d be effective ones if they were, wouldn’t they?” Aziraphale returned. “I just left them alone in my flat, after all.” 

“Not that it would do them much good, you’ve got that place warded to the gills, but I see your point.” Crowley sighed. “I’m going to hate what you’re about to suggest, aren’t I?” 

“I simply feel it would be best to keep those two close until we know what exactly they’re up to.” 

“They might just be normal humans, angel!” Crowley protested, but at a look from Aziraphale, he sighed and gave in. As he always did. “Fine. What do you have in mind?” 

“Well, we’re going to be employed by the Dowlings very soon here, and that will keep us away from London for a few years…”

“ _No_.”

“Oh, but Crowley, it’s the perfect solution!” 

Crowley groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. 

***

When Remus woke the next morning, he had no idea where he was. 

He was warm and comfortable, two things he rarely felt in his damp, dilapidated cottage. The mattress beneath his back was the softest thing Remus had ever slept on, and someone had piled a heap of blankets on top of him. Remus worked a hand out of the blankets, pulling them away from his face, and that was when he spotted Harry. _Ah,_ right. The previous day’s events came back to him. He had found his way to a Muggle bookshop after the car had broken down. The owner was odd, but harmless, and he had loaned the use of his flat to a stranger. Remus would have Apparated, if he could, but it wasn’t safe to do that with a child as young as Harry and besides, they were supposed to be living off-the-grid, as it were. Minimal use of magic. Raise Harry as a Muggle, out of the public eye, and maybe he would be safe. 

Remus would do _anything_ to keep him safe. 

He stroked Harry’s pudgy cheek with a finger. Harry snuffled in his sleep. He didn’t wake, but he turned his face toward Remus. Remus leaned over and kissed his tiny nose. He fell asleep again with one of Harry’s hands wrapped around his finger.

When he woke up, he was alone in the bed.

 _Harry_.

Remus sat bolt upright. He had made a nest for Harry in the vast bed the night before, surrounding him with extra pillows so he couldn’t roll away in the middle of the night, but now Harry was _gone_. The nest itself was undisturbed, so Harry likely hadn’t left on his own, and cold fear choked Remus.

Throwing back the covers, Remus reached for his trousers and cardigan from the night before, hurriedly tugging them on before rushing out of the room. He clattered down the stairs to the shop and paused, listening. 

Harry’s voice was easy to follow. He was burbling happily, nonsense baby talk that the four of them had always answered in complete sentences because Lily told them it was better for the baby that way, and--

Remus swiftly cut off that train of thought and followed Harry’s voice to the back room. The door stood open.

The shopkeeper’s friend--Crowley, that was his name--was laying on the carpet, stretched out flat on his stomach. He had his chin propped in one hand while he watched Harry play with a surprisingly vast array of toys that Remus was certain hadn’t been there the day before. 

“Try that one,” he said, nudging a large plastic train over to Harry, who picked it up and then smashed it on the ground in delight. Crowley laughed out loud and reached out to ruffle Harry’s hair. “Yeah, we’re gonna get along just fine.” 

Remus’s gut clenched. The scene was too familiar, and yet horribly wrong all at once. Crowley’s long hair was too red, he was too tall, his hips moved all wrong when he walked--and yet. And yet, if Remus squinted, if he allowed his vision to blur, this could be Sirius stretched out on the floor with Harry, as Remus had seen him do on countless occasions over the past year.

Harry seemed to reach the same conclusion, because he gripped a stuffed whale tight in his tiny hand, smashed it against Crowley’s nose, and exclaimed, “Pads!” 

“Ah--” Remus hurried over and plucked Harry off the floor, a fist around his heart. “No, that’s not--that’s not Pads, Harry. This is Mr Crowley.” 

“Jus’ Crowley’s fine.” Crowley stood, adjusting his sunglasses. “He’s a right little demon, this one.” 

“I’m so sorry if he woke you, usually I don’t sleep that soundly--”

“Relax,” Crowley said, and he sounded amused. “It was a compliment. Ezra went out to pick up some pastries. There’s tea in the kitchen. Or coffee, if you’re a heathen like me. Oh, and your car’s all fixed.”

“It is?” That brought Remus up short. “How?” 

“I know a few tricks.” Crowley tried to stuff his hands in his pockets nonchalantly, but his jeans were too tight, and only his fingers fit. “It’s right as rain.” 

“What do I owe you?” 

“Nothing.” 

“But I can’t just--” Remus gestured with his free hand. “You fixed my car, and you let us stay for a night, and now you’re giving us tea and coffee and _pastries_. I must owe you _something_.” 

Crowley regarded him for a moment. For some reason, he seemed amused.

“Word to the wise,” he said, putting a hand on Remus’s shoulder. “Don’t be so eager to make a deal with the devil. You don’t owe me anything...this time.” 

He patted Remus’s shoulder and sauntered away, leaving a baffled Remus staring after him. 

***

Ezra turned up half an hour later with a bag of pastries and several profuse apologies. That didn’t stop Crowley from dramatically looking at his watch and declaring, “You’ve been gone for over an _hour_.” 

“Yes, well, I ran into Mrs Higgins along the way, and we stopped to chat about her grandchildren. The youngest one is off to university this year, did you know? And then Mr Miller was in the shop, and he’s acquired some more manuscripts for me to appraise, and of course the shop was busy for a Saturday morning so I didn’t--” 

“ _Angel_ ,” Crowley demanded, holding out his hand, and Ezra huffed.

“Oh, you old _fiend_ ,” he muttered, but he placed one of the pastries in Crowley’s hand regardless.

Remus’s face felt odd, and he realized with a jolt that he was _smiling_ at them. Smiling at this domestic scene--because they _had_ to be a couple, hadn’t they? What with the nicknames and the banter and the familiarity? 

This was what he could have had, if it hadn’t gone so terribly wrong.

Harry was currently mashing fruit in his high chair. Crowley had produced both the high chair and the fruit seemingly out of nowhere, but Remus didn’t have the mental energy to put much thought into it. He got a few grapes into Harry’s mouth before the baby took to smashing the rest, and counted it a success. 

“We should be on our way soon,” he said. “We’ve taken up enough of your time as it is. I don’t know how to thank you for your help.” 

“Actually, we’ve been talking about that,” Ezra said, but at that moment, Harry started to fuss. Remus knew _this_ cry well, and he quickly released Harry from the confines of the chair and set him on the floor to crawl around. “How would you like a job, my dear?” 

“Uh.” Remus blinked at him. “A what, now?” 

“You know, those things humans do to make money.” Crowley flashed him a frankly unsettling grin. “People, I mean. What _people_ do to make money.”

“I don’t--I mean, I _do_ live in Wales.” 

“You’d have to relocate, of course, but I promise you the pay is more than worth it,” Ezra said. “I’m going to be taking...a bit of a sabbatical, you could say. I’ll be away from Soho for a few years. It would bring me great comfort to have someone looking after the shop on a day-to-day basis in my absence.” 

Remus had worked in shops before. He’d done all sorts of odd jobs throughout his life, both Muggle and magical, but he felt compelled to mention he wasn’t _great_ at it.

“I’m, er, not much of a sales person,” he said. 

“That’s perfect,” Ezra said, beaming. “Precisely what I’m looking for. You don’t have to sell a thing. In fact, I would prefer that you didn’t.” 

“You want to hire someone...to _not_ run your business.” 

“Exactly.” 

“So what would I do instead?” 

“Oh, _occasionally_ you could sell a book,” Ezra said. “I keep some commercial fiction about just in case. But you must _never_ sell any of the others. There’s some dusting to be done, the occasional re-shelving. I frequent auctions and do business with other book dealers, so you’ll be needed to accept and process the occasional shipment of rare books. Oh, and sometimes businessmen make their way in here to try to convince me to sell the shop. You’re to use whatever means necessary to get them to leave.”

“Well--I mean, I have the baby…” 

“Bring him with,” Ezra said, now looking absolutely delighted. “You’ll have to keep him away from my collection, of course, but a squalling child is an excellent deterrent for customers. Oh, and I hope that you aren’t frightened of snakes.” 

Remus blinked. Who _was_ this man? “You have a snake?” 

“A rather large one,” Ezra said, a mysterious smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. Crowley huffed. “He keeps mostly out of the way, but sometimes he’s rather obnoxious. Likes to drape himself over my books no matter _how_ many times I tell him--well. He’s nice to have around, at any rate, because most people aren’t all that fond of them.”

“Snakes are fine,” Remus said. “I don’t mind.” 

“Excellent. It’s settled, then?” 

Remus sighed. Normally he wouldn’t mention it to a potential employer right off the bat, but this man and his partner had done too much for them. It wouldn’t feel right to take advantage of them like that.

“I have an illness,” he said. “I’ll be absent a lot. I’m not a terribly reliable employee, I’m afraid.”

This also failed to deter Ezra. “Close the shop whenever you feel like you can’t come in, dear boy. Unreliable business hours are another excellent tactic to keep customers away.” 

“You’re very strange.” Remus was too tired for tact, and Crowley barked a laugh. Ezra smiled.

“I know.” 

Harry toddled over to him on uncertain legs, catching himself on Remus’s knee and grinning up at him. 

“Moon!” he announced, delighted. Remus smoothed down a patch of his unruly hair. Sometimes it was hard to look at him, he resembled James so much. 

“What do you think, pup?” Harry thrust his hands into the air, and Remus lifted him into his lap. “Should we say yes?” 

“Yes!” Harry parroted, and Remus laughed. 

“When do I start?” he asked, and Ezra beamed.


End file.
